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‘Photography is fiction’ – a conversation with Reuben Wu

Reuben Wu

Photographer, Director, Musician

Reuben Wu is an example of how hard work mixed with a restless mind can lead to endless creative potential. Floating between directing, photography and playing in his band Ladytron, Reuben’s been able to develop his creative process in a way that is unrestricted by medium or format.

It’s not all a creative genius-type fantasy though; in order to create such unique landscape photographs requires exhaustive planning, research, experimentation and hard-headedness. We could all learn a thing or two from Reuben, so we recently sat down with him to do just that. Turns out he’s also a classically trained violinist…

You’ve been to some pretty mind-blowing spots around the world and have been able to tell some amazing stories through your pictures. What about the stories behind the frames? Can you tell us about a ‘what the hell have I gotten myself into’ moment?’, that happened on one of your adventures?

I think the most trouble I got into was when I went to look for an abandoned amusement park on top of a mountain outside of Bilbao in Spain. My band was on tour and we had a bit of time between arriving and soundcheck, so I took a cab to the location (which was in the middle of nowhere and devoid of people) and had him leave me for a couple of hours. I ended up jumping the fence of this spooky park, which had been abandoned since the 1980s and wandered around for about ten minutes until I spotted some movement in the undergrowth. What I assumed was a small animal turned out to be an angry armed guard with two Rottweilers, demanding my papers and threatening to set his dogs on me. I remember thinking to myself, ’This would be very bad if the concert got cancelled because I was arrested for trespassing or attacked by dogs’. In the end I think it was the fact I told him I was a travelling musician from Liverpool which got me off the hook because he begrudgingly said he liked the Beatles before turfing me out of the premises. Since then I am a bit more careful about where I venture with my camera.

I experimented a lot with film types and old cameras when I was learning a few years ago, inspired by that vintage film look and shooting places which jarred with that aesthetic and process: immense space age technology or abandoned Arctic townships.

How did you find, and continue to develop your aesthetic?

In the beginning, a lot of it had to do with anachronism in medium and subject. I experimented a lot with film types and old cameras when I was learning a few years ago, inspired by that vintage film look and shooting places which jarred with that aesthetic and process: immense space age technology or abandoned Arctic townships. I wanted to document these places and things in a way that had never been done before, like shooting the northern lights with expired Polaroid film, so in a way it was a lot about the process. Since then I continue the same aesthetic but it is more refined and makes more sense to me. I see the work as not just photography, but a craft of visual art.

What can you tell us about the role of preparation and chance in your work?

I prepare as much as I can, especially when a place is hard to access or off the beaten track. This includes having a GPS enabled phone with maps, figuring out the direction and phase of the sun and moon cycles, planning angles of attack and choice of gear for the type of picture I want to capture. When I shoot personal work, I am pretty much up all night so I allow for time to experiment and for serendipity to happen. I think going back to a place and shooting it again is a great way to improve because you have already processed how you would shoot it better, and each time you discover something new.

A photograph is limited by the tools you use; colour depth, sensors, lens distortion to name a few variables. Then there are editing programs to help retouch, manipulate and produce the raw frame. How do the various physical and digital processes work with the way you do things to produce the final frame?

Photography is a fiction. It’s a frame of a film which hasn’t been made, or a line from a forgotten poem. I always create in camera as much as possible, because it is also about the experience of what is in front of you at the time. The tools you use to portray your vision don’t really matter but I’m not afraid to intertwine techniques of the physical with digital tools as long as the intended picture is made successfully.

I think going back to a place and shooting it again is a great way to improve because you have already processed how you would shoot it better, and each time you discover something new.

Your work makes me think of a beautiful, imaginary future world as much as it does a decaying, catastrophic one. Is this intentional?

Yes, I seem unable to escape the hints of melancholy in my work. Sometimes it’s very subtle, others not at all, but it is general attribute I am always drawn to in art.

Photography is a fiction. It’s a frame of a film which hasn’t been made, or a line from a forgotten poem.

New technologies such as 360 degree cameras and drones are taking photography to (literally) new heights. What’s the difference between using these new tools as a gimmick versus using them to innovate and push boundaries?

I think when a technology is new, people are playing and exploring possibilities, and this is a crucial beginning for creativity. Initially these ideas can be gimmicky but eventually the familiarity with the new tool allows you to make new connections in your mind. The novelty of piloting a drone or using a 360 camera begins to fade away and you are simply left with an opportunity to make deeper and more meaningful concepts real.

It seems to me that this is the golden age of amateur photography. How do professionals, that is those who are committed documentary, editorial, photojournalists, how do we go about telling stories that are convincing and compelling in a visually saturated environment?

National Geographic photographer Sam Abell has defined his career with patience. There is no dull section of a Sam Abell photograph, the frame is layered from back to front with compelling imagery. This can be a slow process, it can take days, weeks, or in some cases months for the right opportunity to present itself.

There were many rafts over the course of the four years and all were built with salvaged materials. The construction boom happening in NYC in the mid-2000s provided a lot of scrap material that we pulled from dumpsters.

I love the unexpected, uncontrollable moments that just happen. That’s why I suppose spontaneity is really the crux of the best art I’ve done. That, and I just really love the process of making things.

There are countless stories that tell of a young man, lost and uncertain, who sets out on a whirlwind adventure and figures out who he really is. It is a sad reality that amongst the great classic adventure stories, very few (if any) of the protagonists are female.

I perceive my photographic work through a director’s eyes, however, the difference in my vision, is that the whole world is a stage. It’s an intense sensation of “limitless”. I like to recreate a fantastic universe of dreams and travels.

Arriving back in Marrakech, I felt like I had truly been to outer space and back; I felt like I had seen landscapes that could not exist on our planet. I felt like I had stepped both back and out of time and had seen and briefly experienced a different way of living, of one without time and without fear.

It’s surprising to see a lot of people’s living spaces of a certain age – what they surround themselves with and how they decorate their houses. They’re like living museums. It’s often an incredible level of chaos and madness that they live amongst

I use that same word when I talk about travel – luxury. It’s such a white man’s headache you know, like, it’s not hard. People say “How did you do that? That’s so hard.” And I think, “Well there are some cold days, some warm days, you know..” But it’s my own choice, and it’s a privilege entirely.

Porter Yates is a photographer, and Dan Melamid is a director. They have been friends for many years, and both share a passion for travel and visual storytelling. Through Witness.Earth they have collaborated to develop a new style of photographic presentation to music.

Thematically, (Katrin’s) work is concerned with ideas of Australian regional and remote communities in socio-economic transition in the 21st century; experientially, it is an exploration of photographer’s familiarity with her new home country.

Wild & Precious brings together treasures from a series of road trips travelled over 5 years by photographer Jesse Burke and his daughter Clover. It’s a reminder that exploration is timeless, and infinite, as should be the wild.

I’ve had a lifelong fascination with the ocean, and I think a large part of my focus in documenting it focuses on my curiosity and admiration for it… I’ve been circled by bullsharks, thrown over the falls at Teahupoo, ravaged by swarms of sea lice, bounced off the reef at Pipeline, had a jet ski thrown over my head in Australia…

My driving force is to discover places and creations that I personally find intriguing. As for what I’m trying to communicate to an audience, it is a more focused critical perspective, something that I will develop over time.

While cycling about in remote South Australia Tom was bitten on the neck by a reback spider and, after suffering through the night, made it to hospital the following day to be dosed up on two bags of anti-venom. Another time, while hiking Tasmania’s magnificent Overland Track through constant rainfall, a leech found its way quietly into his mouth.

At the age of 22, Larry Niehues packed his bags and headed to Mcallen in south Texas. Following the footsteps of Bruce Davidson, William Eggleston and Dennis Hopper, he embarked on his own great American road trip.

I struggle a little bit with my attraction to old things, but I like small towns and they are usually a little behind the times. At least landscapes are timeless. I can’t be accused of nostalgia when photographing nature.

Creativity runs through your veins. Photography is just a way to capture what you need to express. You see something that moves you, it doesn’t necessarily have to be beautiful, and you take a picture of it. Creativity is tied to anything that makes you tick. In my case it is the outdoors.

Ittoqqortoormiit is one of the most insulated towns in the world. Far away from all touristic highways and only accessible by helicopter. Two supply ships a year, and if you forget to lodge a request you must wait six more months for this.

I try to approach these trips and films with an open mind as to what I might find. I think its really important to spend time with the people, and let them tell you about what they would like to tell you before filming them or attempting to interview them.

Maybe in some of these places there has never been human presence, I access them with my kayak or by boat. Sometimes I’m lucky, and I go alone, sometimes I go with my groups. Either way I’m very lucky, I can see other worlds within this world. I’m very lucky to experience this.

We want to make people aware about how difficult the living and working conditions in certain parts of the world can be, the fact that not everybody was born into the bright side of life but also that travelling to far away places is possible – through photographs.

The Family Acid sounds something like an adult swim cartoon, but the truth is so much more awesome. They are in fact responsible for some of the most visually intriguing and detailed documentation of the counter cultural movement of the 1970’s on, out of the U.S and beyond.

That was a life changing time with two wonderful women and their amazing father who are dear friends of mine. They are sailors but it was a first for me to be out at sea for two weeks. The best way to explore any coast on a magic carpet ride!

It was an amazing, incredible sight to see hundreds of people on this beach. The horses went in first, four or five horses into the water, then the saints were immersed, and then everybody else went in after that to take the ritual bath.

I make an effort to let everyone I photograph know what I’m up to. I want them to understand where I am coming from. I think when they meet me they realise I’m not out to expose or judge them. Who am I to expose something or someone anyway?

This series is the first time I’ve ventured into photojournalism. The opportunity fell into place; I happened to be at the right place at the right time. I wasn’t prepared for the evident increase in poaching and anti-poaching activity this time around, and that was a shock. It’s a strange series to reflect on.